Bowser's Last Day
by D.A.R.E2
Summary: A mental step-by-step as Johnny decided to kill his beloved neighbor.


*Johnny isn't mine, but Bowser is. Thought you'd like to know.*  
  
The Death Of Bowser: An excerpt taken from the die-ary of Johnny C.  
  
-3:30 p.m.-  
  
These walls are caving in on me. I can feel it. Slowly...yet surely, they will crush me with their almighty power that is beyond my own. My neighbor is walking down the street. He's smiling at me through the window. Don't smile at me, you foul beast of the earth. His name is Leonard Fulton, but I reffer to him as "Bowser". Don't ask questions as to why, just pretend you already know. It's much easier that way. I think I might have a talk with the chap later.  
  
  
  
-5:03 p.m.-  
  
I like Bowser, but I like watching Bowser die in a bloody pool as well. What is a soul to do? I can't just kill Bowser. I can't just not kill him. I need the blood, that's a good reason to kill him. Lemme think of some more...ah hah! He's a menace to society! Or is he? Maybe he just menaces me. Maybe I'm too sensitive. Whatever the problem may be, Bowser will die tonight. I have my paintbrush ready, and I intend to use it. I haven't killed since last Thursday. Sunday morning I was laying my head down on the soft, cold floor, trying to determine if I was crazy. Was I hearing things? Mayeb so. If I am, I certainly can't fix that problem. Not for now, anyway. I have things to do. Bowser is coming...hope he had a nice evening.  
  
  
  
-6:20 p.m.-  
  
Bowser has crossed my house numerous times. It's like he's begging for the afterlife to snatch him up by the collar and suck the sweet life out of his lungs. I have sharpened my ax to an unneccesary point. Can an ax really be too sharp? I remember the last time I spoke with him. He asked me if I wanted him to pick up my mail for me. "No" I answered quietly, for no apparent reason. He simply smiled and walked off. My house smells like pizza. I haven't eaten pizza since last Thursday...maybe that smell isn't pizza, come to think of it. Maybe I should just leave it alone. Bowser has on a nice suit. I wonder if he has a prior engagement.  
  
  
  
-7:00 p.m.-  
  
Finally. Bowser is coming up the steps after seeing my pale face looking out the window observing him. The repetitive knock should come any second now....there it is. Music to my ears. Looking out the peephole at him only builds my anxiousness. He looks disturbed. Hopefully this won't get in the way during tonight's adventure. I open the door, we exchange hellos, then he cuts to the point as quick as he can manage. He wants to know if there's anything he can do for me, because I've been acting strange lately. I tell him there's some painting that needs to be done. He offers to help, slightly confused with what painting has to do with my moodiness. Little do you know, little man, very little do you know.  
  
-7:30 p.m.-  
  
He's passed out on the floor. Gave him some pills disguised in my precious brownies..."Take one, Bowser! Eat it!" Look at him, all smug and silent. He better get used to it. I've handcuffed him and tied him to the sink, which will serve it's purpose come clean-up time. My ax doesn't really seem like the right way to do away with him, and neither does the saw. He is a neighbor, after all, so I decide that this should be a creative activity. I'm getting bored waiting for him to wake up...I know what you're thinking. "If you're gonna kill him, do it while he's still asleep". Shouldn't I allow the fellow to witness this event? It is, after all, his own death, he should at least get to enjoy it.  
  
  
  
-8:45 p.m.-  
  
It's over. He woke around 8:00 or so, and I just went from there. I explained what I was going to do, plain and simple, he screamed, and it took off from there, luckily. I ended up using the ax, which actually was a good choice on my behalf. It went a lot quicker than I expected. What a shame. I was hoping for at least an hour of fun and mayhem, but it only lasted about 20 minutes. I've finished cleaning for the most part, the room and myself. That pizza smell still hasn't left my nostrils alone. Wonder what it could possibly be.  
  
-10:00 p.m.-  
  
It's getting a bit late. The pizza smell? Twas pizza after all. I forgot I had left it in the basement. I am rinsing my brush clean of the events it witnessed today, preparing it for the mayhem of tomorrow. Maybe it won't be so bad. Maybe I'll find a body that has been pre-disposed. Or maybe I'll snag a mime. I could use a little more quite. My hair is greasy, I haven't washed it lately. The bathroom is filled with carnage, so I have a good reason not to shower. Time to sleep. It's been a long day for me. I wonder what Bowser would be doing now. Sleeping? Either way, he's out cold.  
  
-12:00 a.m. (midnight, lovelies...)-  
  
I don't regret the disposal of Bowser. I do, however, regret using my ax. Now there are stains, and not even the strongest household detergents can get rid of them. Detergents are a many splendored thing when used correctly. What am I saying? I think I need some special cherry frozen treats, if you catch my drift. If you don't, too bad! You'll have to ask someone else. I'm much too tired to explain, and seeing that I'm not gonna sleep for awhile means I'm only getting crazier by the moment-let's just stop here and call it a day. Yes, that'd definetly be for the best. 


End file.
